


Torment in Ones' Thoughts

by Vengeful_Frost



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Gen, Lokis' thoughts after Friggas' death, Thor: The Dark World Spoilers, self inflicted wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 05:02:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vengeful_Frost/pseuds/Vengeful_Frost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoilers for Thor 2: The Dark World</p>
<p>Loki doesn't handle the news of the death of the All-Mother. But how is he to take out his grief and frustrations when the only one in this cell is himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Torment in Ones' Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> Not entirely my best writing ever, but after watching the movie this scene stuck with me. So it was more or less a kind of meh portrayal of Lokis' mind as how I saw it from looking at body language, facial expression and digging into the character. So hopefully it's not too horrible. I didn't really have a beta reader for this work, as my friend hasn't seen the movie as of yet. If this was enjoyed enough, I may do more work. Please enjoy! Creative criticism is always welcomed.

    Empty.. That's how it felt when he was given word of the Queens' death. Of course, he kept up his appearances with the guards near by. Loki couldn't afford to let anything slip up now, not while he was still in this hell they called a cell. Frigga had furnished it with what she could...from the lounging chair to the books, even the one he was holding in his very hand. He was stuck...in the last place he'd seen her, saying those lies that still left a bitter taste in his mouth. While he'd meant Odin not being his father, Frigga was no less his mother than she had been when the liesmith had been small. Innocent and unknowing of the true monster that lay beneath his false skin...incapable of such stinging words.

   Once the guard left him with the news...there was nothing stopping him from breaking down. It started small, his magicks bursting out to throw a few books here and there and nearly toppling the chair. That was all anyone would ever see outside of his cell. But it was far from over there, once the illusions were placed was when the real breaking began. When the guilt of his words began to eat him raw from within side until he was nothing but a mess in the end.

   'I said all those things to her...my own mother... Those were the last words she ever heard from me.' One of the very first thoughts that had crossed his mind. One that constantly tormented him. 'I couldn't say the truth for just once? The one that's been by my side the entire time, and I threw her away.... And I have no chance to apologize for that now. To even say good bye.'

   The first dam of emotions broke forth then and the starvation began. To say that the Silvertongue had cried, mourned for the loss of the All-Mother, anyone would think you mad. It wasn't gentle sobs, no his internal pain was much too great for that. With his illusions up, he didn't have to save face to anyone and he would take advantage of that. Violent, wrenching sobs were produced from his body. Shaking him to the very core and scratching his throat until it was nearly raw. Unable to breath, to think, everything in front of him now was nothing but horrible emptiness and he could do nothing to fix that.

   It felt like a void...much like the one he had fallen in so, so long ago. There was no direct emotion he could feel within his body the first hours of his mourning. Almost as if he wasn't there at all. Despite the tears, the heavy sobs, he couldn't feel anything specific. Sorrow...sorrow was there, but everything was so numb. He was truly lost now. He sat at the chair, slumped and trying anything to bring some semblance of stability in his mind. What he could hope to bring at least. With a self proclaimed avatar of Death in ones' mind for so long, stability was hard to come by in the aftermath.

   Taking deep breaths, his sobbing had finally come to an end. But with that came the anger. Anger, pure and free to cause the wreckage it saw fit. Had the illusions not been in place, the guards would have been brought to alarm and no doubt he would have to be dealt with. His magicks raged out and the first that was in his path had been the lounging chair. It splintered into pieces once it had been violently thrown against the walls of his cell. The rubble laying upon the ground, scattered and disregarded as his rage continued to boil.

   There was nothing he could have done to help her. He had been stuck here. Here! So close and yet he could not have been further. And where were the rest to help her? Thor, the thundering oaf? Where was he to protect his mother! For someone that had pleaded that they were related, that they were still brothers..yet he let this happen. Loki wanted nothing more than to scream at him, instead of these empty walls. To take his fine daggers and torture every last breath out of him. Why hadn't he been there? He may not have ever been there for the trickster himself, but surely his mother would have at least been so important to him.

   And then the discarded princes' thoughts turned to the All-Father. The man whos' lies could rival even his own. Surely he should have been there to save his wife. Shield Maiden or no, he should have been there. Before Loki had the time to even pay notice, his room was in tatters. The remaining pieces of the chair were now little more than splinters and remaining metal on the floor. His books torn and laid about his room.

   Paying it no mind, the lost one paced and paced. There was no one here he could take out his frustrations...his grief. He had no one to scream at, to throw the blame. The last place he could ever turn it to...was himself. Something that Loki was not uncommon to.

   While the rage had faded only slightly, the lost and griefing madness did not. Being weak with his lack of nutrition, the bruising and cuts came next. They weren't big at first, but it had started with the wound on his foot. It hadn't been purposefully, just an unfortunate step on a too sharp piece of rubble in his cell, but he found that it eased what he felt. Marginally... He found a way to release what was pent up, even if it was only a little at a time. Besides...wasn't it just that the Prince of Lies get his due punishment? To pay for not being there when his own mother needed him the most.

   The bruises were easy enough to hide if he'd ever decide to release the illusion of his cell. Not that he could bring himself to care anymore. The pain was being numbed, released, and that was all he cared for. The hatred and shame was finally being brought out as he sought fit. All his blame, his guilt was coming out in the bruisings and cuts as he would pound against the walls in his emotional turmoil. The scratches on the walls being the only proof besides the bruises to show that he was indeed bringing this upon himself.

   Slumped against the wall, he took heavy breathes and sat there with his thoughts. No matter how much he hurt himself...or destroyed something, it brought no solace. Lokis' chaotic mind would give him no rest and he was so far gone.

   In a last ditch effort, with all the pent up anger and sorrow, he screamed. Nothing intelligible.  The screaming of someone who'd lost so much and yet was left to suffer for much longer than anyone could take. He curled in his screams, hating every breath that he took. But hating even more that he was stuck here and could do nothing to right what had been wronged. The scream ripped through his throat, leaving the muscles in pain and causing breaks in the scream. Once he was finally done, he slumped back against the wall. Breathing heavily and looking as hopeless as he had started.

   Hands in his lap, Loki looked about the hopeless disaster he was in and sat there...finally in silence. Disheveled and in pain...but quiet. And that was when he heard it. Those loud footsteps that came towards his cell. He would know those steps anywhere, and was more than glad that his illusions were up.

   Loki regained his breath as he left the illusion to beginning the talk with Thor. But he had gotten clever it seemed...seeing through his illusion so easily. With dull, and aching eyes, the illusion was removed and they stared at one another. But the one thing that ached...that he needed to know. He could have it answered now. With a lick of his lips and trying to find what was left of his voice, he looked to his once-brother.

   "...Did she suffer..?" He needed to know at least this. Surely what Thor wanted could wait for even that. ...But it seems that it could not. One moment...where he was honest...truthful and needed only one thing from the Golden Son, one gesture of kindness...of relief, and was given nothing in return. One simple answer could have sufficed. ...But the fates were never with him from the start. 'Then let this eat me from the inside and fuel my rage... I will have my vengence..' His thoughts turned dark before his facade was once again back in place.

   "When do we start?”


End file.
